


You Will Be The Death Of Me

by another_crack_in_time_and_space



Series: Dragon Age Drabbles [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Elves just generally fucking shit up, Hurt/Comfort, Jasper just generally fucked, M/M, Well of sorrows is just fucking shit up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-10
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:07:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_crack_in_time_and_space/pseuds/another_crack_in_time_and_space
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After drinking from the Well of Sorrows the Inquisitor finds himself more alone, regardless of the thousand ancient voices in his head. Everyone must be kept out until he learns to deal with this himself. Dorian is well versed in loneliness and not taking no as an answer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Will Be The Death Of Me

Jasper's head was the size of a Druffalo.

Or perhaps that's only how he felt. It was hard to tell the difference between dream and reality. He could barely understand what people were saying when they spoke, a hundred voices chorusing back to answer. Of course they were all shouting in dead languages so Japser was often left staring dumbly at the speaker, unable to find any sort of way to respond on his own. Often dizziness would over take him in waves, spinning the world around him like a stained glass window. To combat this he had since developed a pose where he'd lean on something heavy enough to keep him from collapsing but not so heavily to betray his weakness. He was the leader of the strongest political power in Thedas, weakness would be blood in the water. 

But he couldn't hide from his companions. He would find another blanket on his shoulders if he woke from nightmares, which were often. The only culprit would be Cole, as he locked his door at night in a vain attempt to keep his friends away. Solas was the only one able to tell when Jasper's eyes were burning with fever and not with eagerness to take down Corephyeus. This had the apostate practically clicking his tongue and cursing shemlen doctors before he laid ice chilled hands on overheated neck or palm. And yet Jasper was never warm. He'd taken to sitting by Josephine's fire if he felt the need to prove himself capable of his duties, which was often. More than not, however, he'd bar the door to his chambers and lay shaking in his bed trying to cope with the hours of pain. 

Worse was the pain of guilt. Solas' outrage haunted Jasper's reflection, as if those piercing eyes were following him everywhere. When he did leave his quarters he avoided the western part of the hold entirely. The tavern too, when he thought about it. Between Sera's bow and Iron Bull's strange goodbyes, The Herald's Rest mostly set him on edge. Cullen would watch him with trained pity if he stood too long on the battlements, trying to catch his breath. Blackwall allegedly could be heard cursing Jasper's cause, lead by a weak willed knife ear, but he would never own up to it when questioned. Vivenne had been the only real comfort, assuring him it would pass. Hopefully. Even Varric wouldn't look him in the eye. 

And yet he knew his real guilt came from driving Dorian away. This dream of returning to Tevinter, the only man to right the ills of his country? It was a thinly veiled lie. Dorian feared him now. The man who dove into time, rose people from the dead, forgave his father after a suggested lifetime of abuse, this man was afraid of him. Lavellan knew it was his actions at the well that put him over the edge. The pain he felt was equal parts heartache as it was sickness. 

But mark his words, Jasper would never change what he did. This information was his, by rights, as the last of Clan Lavellan, and the Inquisitor at that. This was the culmination of centuries of civilization which had been decimated. The inquisitor didn't even have the world of the fade to help him, not even a slim chance of catching some ancient memory of his people in the beyond. Jasper was nothing if not a little selfish when it came to his Dalish roots and the idea of Morrigan, a  _shem_ , walking around the world with her half truths owning his heritage drove him crazy. Or perhaps just forced his already unbalanced hand. The witch had not ceased her onslaught of underhanded comments about how he clearly couldn't deal with binding himself to Mythal. "He isn't even a mage" was her favorite go to, one the actual mages of the inner circle were tired of hearing. If he was being honest the shame and guilt of his choice weren't much easier to handle than the physical ailments. 

Jasper tossed and turned as he considered this, another clammy night spent locked in his bed room, balancing hot flashes and chills. Currently the bedsheets were trapped somewhere between his ankles and his hands pressed flat against the mattress, as if laying out like this would serve to cool him. He stared unblinking at the trees carved into the glass above his windows, which mirrored the ones carved into the skin of his forehead. 

_"Binding yourself to the will of a God? What we're you thinking?"_

'That I'd already done it before.' he thought to himself cynically, turning his head to press one cheek into the pillow. This whole blighted thing was about someone else god and someone else's prophet. He was not the Herald, in as much as Corephyeus was not a god. If he was really misanthropic that day, Jasper would tell himself the Creators were testing his faith. 

Really,  _really_ testing it. 

Not that these Andrastians would understand. Even the elves which had joined up had forsaken the Creators. Dorian, of all people, still held faith in some high power, so long as it was singular and very "not dead", as his lover had once so tactfully put it. To his credit Dorian had read the few mentions of Jasper's gods in the lore books, had kept an open mind when he asked Jasper to explain a story or describe the Vallaslin ceremony, and had even put in a favor for researchers to go over what they had left in the temple, though the last idea set Jasper on edge. Jasper had only glanced at a statue of Andraste for a few moments before turning away, disinterested. 

With a frustrated growl Jasper sat up, untangling the mass of blankets from him. He rose unsteadily and walked slowly to the balcony which overlooked the garden, watching the stars spin overhead. Sure these stars probably should not have been spinning, all things considered, but if his sickness made the world pretty for a few seconds who was he to complain? Jasper smirked at this thought, knowing full well he loved to complain to himself about everything. He leaned heavily on the banister before him, shutting his eyes against the soft wind. When it brushed through the trees he could almost pretend he was in a far away forest, or that perhaps it was raining on his aravael, which always gave him such strange dreams. The never ending chill sapped his heat, which was a welcome change. Without thinking he took off the thin shirt he had been wearing for his own modesty, trusting his being alone to grant him privacy. Moonlight made him almost silver, bronzing his freckles by comparison. He knew without looking that the scars on his face were cast in ghoulish shadow, but Jasper supposed this couldn't be helped. It was a strange moment of peace. 

Below him the gardens were empty, but the tavern could be heard even from where he stood, though faintly. This was likely in no small part due to Jasper's training as a hunter and rouge. Warm light bathed the courtyard, people coming in and out. He wondered what Bull would be saying to the chargers, another round of beer purchased, just one too many rounds of wicked grace to keep up the charade of confidence. Sera would be making eyes at the bard, though she claimed to hate her song. Maybe she was more withdrawn tonight, planning pranks or Red Jenny trips. Varric sneaking in for a beer. Jasper wondered idly if Josephine drank much, considering the vineyards she grew up on. Cullen appreciated a good vintage, but had avoided drinking of late. 

And where could Dorian be? In the tavern as well, he supposed. It was as good as anywhere to get drunk. Maybe he was in his rooms, drinking alone as he had after he rejected his father. Jasper had been invited to that particularly pity party at least. Maybe it was the library tonight, wrapped up in a book or altogether too lazy to move, just wrapped up in his wingback chair half asleep. He might be planning his next big move to Tevinter, writing letters by poorly made candles, hopefully spilling ink everywhere, deciding he should stay here with his amatus instead-

No. Jasper couldn't force him here, anymore than he could force the rest of his party (excluding Blackwall, he considered with a grimace). If Dorian felt he had to leave then Jasper would have to let him. Maybe it was these voices clamoring in his head that made him feel self entitled. He rolled his head back and turned back around, retreating to his desk to consult the reports he had brought up here with him. He leaned heavily on the lip of his desk, trying to fall into the chair with a shred of grace. Of course he stumbled and ended up on his ass, winded. Blast it! By the Creators, he should never had drank from that well! His fist struck out against his desk, crunching painfully on its carved wood. 

"Kaffas," he spat, borrowing Dorian's curses. He cradled the hand against his chest, a sneer on his lips. "Mythal'enaste, I'm an idiot." 

"If you say, Amatus." A velvety voice echoed. Jasper jumped suddenly, smacking his head against the desk once more. He groaned as a new flush spread on his cheeks, but made no move to come into view. 

"How long have you been standing there?" Jasper asked bitterly. "Before I made an ass of myself, or after?" He barely waited for a response before trying to pull himself up on shaking arms. Dorian didn't miss this detail and strutted forward to help him. Jasper jerked away from his offered hand and turned his face away from Dorian's frown, staring into the fireplace across from him. 

"Don't be foolish, I wouldn't have left you just - Maker! What happened to your hand?" Dorian caught the injured hand in his own even as Jasper tried to pull back. He tapped each knuckle experimentally, adding to the waves of dizzying pain. If Jasper didn't sit down soon he'd be back on the ground as unceremoniously as before. 

"Let it be, emma lath. Did you need anything?" Trying to be sweeter Jasper even gave him a smile as he half stumbled toward his bed, pulling Dorian behind him. "I'm not much company. You should be...studying or something." He paused to catch his breath briefly, "I'm sure there's many preparations to make for Tevinter." Neither one missed that the word sounded dirty in his mouth. 

"You've been locked in your ivory tower. Your advisers believe I was the best to wake you from your slumber," Dorian smirked at his own joke. "I believe there was a kiss involved somewhere, so who was I to say no?" Jasper nodded loosely and fell backward onto his bed. Only now did it hit him that he was half naked and shimmering with sweat. Of all the ways to end up in this position, slowly being consumed by voices in his head was not one he had considered. 

"Have you often pictured yourself the prince in this situation? Isn't that a bit presumptuous? I am currently saving the world and all." Jasper coughed wetly and Dorian sat gently on the edge of the bed, still messing with his injured hand. His eyebrows knit together, muttering something under his breath. His palms grew green and some of the ache in his hand abated but it only made the roaring of his migraine worse. The chatter started up again, rising the more Dorian tried to magic his pain away. Finally he pulled his hand away and grunted, laying it against his forehead. 

"You look...awful, amatus," The look in his loves eye did not bode well. It was the look he got before he said something stupid and valiant. Jasper forced his mouth into a smile and shook his head. 

"So sweet on me. Have you been taking tips from Varric?" his careful smile warped in a wave of pain. "I'm just recovering. Madame de Fer says it should pass in a week." He turned onto his side, dragging a free hand over Dorian's thigh. He wanted to invited him to lay down, to curl up with him and forget about his fear. But how could he just let go of the facts before them. Dorian shouldn't be here. Clearing his throat Jasper looked up cautiously at him, to find him distracted and far away. Not a look he normally associated with Dorian, who was almost painfully unfamiliar with a wandering mind. An awkward silence settled on them, both near frozen in thought before Dorian shifted first. 

"You know, amatus, I may be going mad." He concluded, scratching at his jaw nervously, of all things. 

"Oh, you're going mad?" Jasper quipped, struggling to sit up now. He wanted to be on equal level with Dorian, if just to see those amazing eyes. 

"Well, yes. I have evidence." The mage made a big show of cracking his knuckles before grabbing Jasper's uninjured hand. The look in his eyes drew more serious but he smiled all the same. "You see, I run away from home, which  _trust me_ was not one of my brighter ideas. Then, in a poorly timed heroic streak I sign onto the Inquisition as resident evil magister. I assure you, it had nothing to do with that enticing Inquisitor fellow, though he doesn't disappoint either," Jasper actually laughed at this, bumping his shoulder with Dorian's. "Of course that's not the end is it? No of all things I fall in love with this enticing Inquisitor fellow! Bear in mind I've nearly died for this man. I made amends with my father for this...this absolutely mind boggling individual. Then we get thrown into hordes of demons, cultists, and Maker above, Orlesian nobles of all things! I dove physically into the fade for him, if you can believe it. Of course you can't, the last time Tevinter entered the fade we nearly bankrupted the country and sentenced the world to never ending waves of darkspawn." Dorian paused here, catching Jasper's green eyes once again, bright as if the anchor light them from behind. His chest constricted painfully and he laughed at himself, looking down at their conjoined hands. "After all that, of pulling his limp body from the bottom of a magical pool of water, watching him kiss death and turn it away, what's my next best idea? Leave it all behind." 

Jasper flinched with a grimace. Of course they would get to this. It's what he'd been thinking of himself, so he really couldn't be too surprised it was haunting Dorian. Though he still seemed set on completing that task. He was just going to leave it all behind, leave him behind. Could Jasper say he wouldn't do the same thing, put in the situation? Terrified of the man he thought he knew, nothing making him to stay? He thought cynically that anchor truly was the best word for this blasted mark.

Jasper didn't get that choice, he reminded himself. 

"Perhaps mad is only your word for fear," Jasper whispered. He lifted his good hand to stroke down Dorian's cheek, once again surprised at just how soft his skin was, and so warm. The man leaned into the touch but his eyes were confused. "I am not the man you knew, not any longer. The fade, the well, it's changed me. This Inquisiton has been changing. Fear makes you leave. It's plain to see." He dragged a thumb over Dorian's lips, considering never doing this again. 'I only wish you wouldn't leave me behind, too' he thought mournfully.

"A Pavus? Afraid of a little tough luck? What a ridiculous notion. What are you going on about, Amatus?" Dorian pulled the hand away from his face. Why was he playing dumb? Dorian was the smartest man in the room. Especially in this one, it seemed. 

"You going to Tevinter. You...are afraid of me. I'm bound to the will of a god, I've walked through the fade. I thought..." Jasper's voice faded the stronger the look of bewilderment grew on his loves face. Had he really thought it out? Was he wrong? The elf retracted his hands entirely, digging his fingers into the meat of his thighs instead. 

"Maker above, you thought I was afraid of you?" Dorian laughed, light returning to his once serious eyes. His laughter grew in earnest the longer he thought of it, which was the source of no small amount of humiliation for Jasper. His ire killed the laugh in Dorian's throat which he cleared sharply, swallowing his smile. "Is that why you've been avoiding me? We discussed this. It has nothing to do with you, for once. I know that may be difficult to understand for someone in your position, but I do have my own wants and needs, Inquisitor." 

"Yes, Vhenan, I know that. Do you really think me so foolish?" Jasper barked. How had he been so stupid? It was unlike him, and Jasper loathed the change in his behavior.

"Not usually. You manage to keep me on my toes like that." Dorian dug, eyes narrowing at Jasper's tone. Jasper made a disgusted sound in his throat and scratched absently at his arms as a wave of chills pricked uncomfortably under his skin. 

"Well I haven't been sulking over you, so don't worry yourself." Unable to stay content with sitting he swung his legs over the side of the bed, getting to his feet before Dorian could move to stop him. "I haven't been feeling well." 

"Does it have something to do with punching desks?" Dorian quipped, standing as well, though Jasper had rounded to the other side of the bed to pour himself some water. His hands stilled when Dorian called him out on it however and he glared at him sharply. 

"You said you didn't see that." Another mistake. Dorian would not hesitate to lie when it suited him. 

"And you said going to Tevinter was a good thing, so here we are." 

"By the Creators, why are you here in the first place!? I never asked for this!" Jasper shouted, though the voices in his head screamed back at that, causing him to stumble. He growled deep in his throat. "Fuck, shit, this blighted headache!" Dorian approached him quickly, hands flying up, glimmering green. Jasper stepped back, half way out onto the balcony by now. 

"No! It's my-" He swallowed. It was his pain. It was only his and he would carry it alone until it killed him. If Dorian thought he was stupid for thinking what he had about his return to Tevinter, this would surely make the mage leave him for good. "I'm handling it." Jasper corrected. He pulled his shirt back on, gratefully for the protection it gave him. 

"So you won't let me help you?" Dorian asked softly, tone almost heartbroken. What did he have to be sad about? He had a sense of purpose after all of this was done.

"No, I'll be...fine. It will pass." Jasper shrugged, rubbing his temple and walking toward his fire, trying his best not to sway. He just wanted Dorian to leave so he could wallow in self pity some more. Tomorrow he could try harder. Put up a smile. Tonight was not a time for that. Just let him have these hours and he'd be fine in the morning. "I don't mean to be so...irritable. Please excuse me."

Dorian only gave him a dumb look and sighed. He crossed to where his amatus was standing. Unbidden, though not unwelcome, he kissed the elf's jaw, this being the part of his face he could easily reach. 

"I love you, amatus. Sleep well." Dorian left in the same quiet manner he had come in. Jasper took his heavy head in his hands, sighing heavily. The voices called back to him, whispering broken elvhen in his ears like secrets. He would handle this. 

The inquisitor never had a choice, did he?


End file.
